


Meet Cute

by everchangingmuse



Category: The Gifted (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Blending, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 02:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19758352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everchangingmuse/pseuds/everchangingmuse
Summary: On her way to a meeting at Reeva's behest, Esme encounters another telepath.





	Meet Cute

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after the season 2 episode "no Mercy". There will be some spoilers.

Esme stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby of the building the Inner Circle currently used as its base of operations and strode toward the revolving door. In her mind, she could hear Sophie and Phoebe as a quiet hum as they went about their individual tasks. She smiled slightly, and felt the affection from her sisters along their shared telepathic link before she nudged that connection closed. They had rules for individual work, and one of them was to not slide into each others’ minds, lest their connection keep them from focusing on their prey.

Esme’s current prey was waiting for her at a cafe near the Federal Triangle metro station. She didn’t take the Metro as a rule - there were too many chances of being recognized - but today, she needed the mental noise. Part of Reeva’s task for her was to gauge the true feelings of the humans in the city. The city was just calming down after what they’d done at Creed International, but the external calm wouldn’t necessarily translate to internal calm. 

Rather than pay for a ticket, Esme walked up to the person at the bullet-proof glass of the ticket booth and nodded to the person hidden away within. Her eyes flared blue a moment, and the person inside punched a button, letting her through the turnstile. She smiled and descended into the station. The crush of people rushing past her gave her plenty of flashes of thought - stupid mundane things like groceries, worry over being late, parking fees. Occasionally, she’d pick up someone fretting over getting caught for an affair, or fearing their sibling/spouse/lover/parent wasn’t telling the truth about a medical condition. One thought, however, caught her attention, almost causing her to stumble.

“Fuck humans. Can I make them dance like chickens without getting caught today?”

That thought was worth missing her train. Esme turned, her heels clicking on the concrete as she swerved through the crowd toward the direction of the thought.

“Anarchy was fun. We should do it again.”

Esme raised an eyebrow at that. Then, she realized that the sentiment had been aimed directly at her, and wasn’t an idle thought. “Maybe next week,” she replied mentally, still moving through the crowd. Her eyes darted around, looking for the mutant she was communicating with.

“Is that a promise?”

“It’s a possibility.” She locked eyes briefly with a young man tucked into a corner, partially hidden by the map of the Metro lines. Pale skin, shaved head, except for a mohawk of shock pink, little round tinted glasses that had slid down to the bottom of his sharp nose. “You headed toward the center of town?”

The man nodded. “If that’s where you’re going, Cuckoo.” He stepped out of the corner, lanky form unfolding as he stretched. Now, she could see the gages in his ears and the snakebite piercings on his lower lip. His faded and torn jeans were baggy on his hips, held up with suspenders rather than a belt. 

“Esme.” She turned back to the train platform. There were a few minutes before the next train, but she knew better than to engage directly. Her prim outfit wouldn’t mesh well with the man’s grunge style.

“Quentin.” She felt him standing a few people down from her, and when she glanced over, saw him regarding the posters on the far wall. “All that chaos was you, Cuckoo?”

“Not exactly.”

“I’d love to meet the person responsible.”

Esme felt a flash of jealousy, which was unlike her. “She’s dead.”

Laughter fluttered through her mind. “Shame, Cuckoo. She must have been fun to hang with.”

“Not really.” Esme was beginning to regret seeking out this telepath. He wasn’t quite what she’d expected.

“You’re not what I’d expected either.”

Esme scowled. “Did I allow that?” she asked. “Do not try and read my mind without my permission.”

“You think you can keep me out?”

The challenge was plain in the feel of his thoughts. Esme mentally rolled her eyes. For a moment, she nudged open the mental door to her sisters a little wider and let them see the man she’d found. Warm giggling, and a flood of thoughts from Sophie and Phoebe. The three of them thought to Quentin at the same time, “We know we can.”

Quentin actually stumbled where he stood, blinked, then looked at her. He gave her a creepy grin. “You didn’t tell me you were part of a set.” 

The other girls’ thoughts tumbled through Esme’s mind. “Kill him, he’s awful, what did you do, Esme, how powerful is he, is he useful, we should tell Reeva, you think he’s a good kisser? How can you even think that?! We should tell Reeva, another telepath, he’d make a challenge, is he stable, let’s kill him.” All of this in the time it took Esme to blink. Then, she closed the connection to her sisters as she felt the rattling of the ground that signalled the impending arrival of the Metro car.

“Cuckoo?”

Quentin’s voice in her mind was curious, hopeful. 

Esme spared him a glance as the train doors opened. She slid past the exiting passengers, and took a seat primly, crossing her legs at the ankles and folding her hands in her lap. She felt the seat behind hers shake, and knew that Quentin had flopped into it. Manspreading, no doubt.

“Mutantspreading.” He tilted his head back to lean on the top of the seat, where he could look at her. She kept her own eyes forward, seemingly ignoring him. “Don’t lump me with the humans, Cuckoo.”

“Why are you calling me cuckoo?”

Quentin smirked. “Isn’t that what you called yourself? Or was that one of your equally hot sisters when she got arrested?”

“That was Sophie. My record is clean.”

“Sophie, hmm? Maybe she’s the sister I should be flirting with.” His smirk turned into a grin as Esme squirmed in her seat.

“This is what passes for flirting for you? Kind of pathetic.”

“What’s that say about you, Cuckoo, that you go for pathetic flirting?”

Esme had to slide closer to the window, and closer to Quentin’s face, as an elderly woman sat down beside her. She rolled her eyes mentally, but smiled kindly at the woman.

“Walking meat sack waste of space flatline human.”

Esme knew she shouldn’t giggle, but the sound escaped her lips and her thoughts before she could stop herself. Quentin’s smile turned a bit more genuine, and the feel of him in her mind softened. He’d let down a bit of his guard when she laughed, and images slid into her mind unbidden. Quentin as he saw himself - rebel, anarchist, punk - and as he truly saw himself - scared, just like the rest of the mutants. Loner, because people had a habit of leaving him. She caught the name Herman before she felt shields snap up around the thoughts, and a mental punch.

“Hypocrite.”

“You’re the one who let me in.” Esme sat up even straighter and squared her shoulders as the train began to move. There weren’t many stops between where she’d entered the Metro and Federal Triangle. “Don’t blame me for your poor defenses. You wanted me to see that.”

Prickly feelings. “Maybe. But you still overreached.”

Had she? She hadn’t intended to overreach. Brief confusion, which shifted into annoyance when Quentin laughed in her mind again.

“Had you going, Cuckoo.”

Fingers flicked at the ends of her hair from behind her, and she stiffened. Talking privately was one thing, but touching? “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Admiring your hair. Can I play with it?”

“You’re going to draw attention to us.”

Another burst of mental laughter. “Cuckoo, all anyone is gonna see is me being a creeper, if they notice at all. They’ll see a sweet blonde thing trying to politely ignore the scuzzy dude making unwanted inroads. Happens all the time. Only ones who’ll know it’s consensual are you and me, if you say yes.”

“Will it make you happy?”

“It will. Not everyday a pretty girl lets me play with her hair. And you can look as pissy as you want, which will keep people’s attention on me, and not your own recognizable face.”

Esme stiffened further, but gave a mental nod. She felt a small burst of joy from the man behind her as he toyed with the ends of her hair. Why she cared if it made him happy, she didn’t know. But, he was right about the actions keeping her from possibly being recognized. She’d be another blonde on the train getting a daily dose of harassment. Nothing out of the ordinary about her.

“Esme Cuckoo, there is nothing ordinary about you.”

“Frost. Esme Frost.”

Quentin grinned as he wove his fingers around her hair. “Cuckoo suits you better.”

“Do you even have a last name?”

“Quire.”

Esme laughed out of surprise, the ripples echoing into the link she shared with her sisters. “Quentin Quire?”

“I know, right? My mom sucks for giving me a stupid superhero-sounding name.” Esme heard a faint echo in his thoughts, people at school from long ago calling him ‘Quagmire’. Again, the prickly dissatisfaction followed. “How do you keep doing that?”

“Clearly I’m the more powerful telepath.”

“And clearly I have the higher ethical standards, which I didn’t think was possible.”

Esme let him feel her frustration. “It’s not my fault if you keep leaving yourself open. The thoughts just filter along the link we’re sharing.”

“We share a link now? I’m liking this, Cuckoo.”

She could feel the smirk accompanying his words, and she heard the vinyl of the seat behind her as he shifted his head. His breath tickled her ear. Keeping in mind where she was and who she was, Esme kept her eyes forward and her back straight. 

“Why are you letting this continue, Esme?” Sophie’s agitation was clear through their collective link. “Keep focused.”

“I’m fine.” Esme echoed her sister’s agitation. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Problem?” The word slid into her ear, and she realized this was the first time she’d heard his voice in the real world. It held razors and hope and traces of cloves.

“Not at all.” She let the words slip into his mind lightly, even as she shut down the link with her sisters. No more bleed-through from her end. She glanced at the sign flashing at the front of the car. “Next stop’s mine, so we’ll have to cut this short.”

“Must we? We’re having fun.” Disappointment tinged with amusement, as though he were trying to mock. Esme, however, could tell the difference between lies and truth by feel. He was sincerely disappointed to break contact. That in and of itself surprised her.

“I’ve got a lunch date I can’t cancel.”

“How long will it take?”

A smile formed on her lips as the Metro car slowed. She stood, keeping her back to him. “Hopefully not too long. Have any big plans for the afternoon?”

“Depends on you, Cuckoo.”

Esme waited a moment as the car stopped, then apologized to the woman who had sat beside her as she slid by. The woman gave her a look, and she could feel the concern - concern for Esme - coming from her thoughts. Esme gave her a smile and a nod, and the woman relaxed. There was no need for true mental communication here; women knew the signs and silent conversations because they all had to. The fact that this human woman showed concern for her was sweet, and Esme decided not to dig further. She swung into the aisle, joining the dozen or so other passengers getting off at Federal Triangle, then disembarked without looking back.

“I’m riding up another few stops then looping back, if you’re still around.” Quentin’s affectations of boredom, even in his mind, amused her, and she turned once she’d gone half a dozen steps away from the train. She could see his face in the window, almost smushed against the thick glass. He made duck lips at her and winked. Esme shook her head.

“Well?”

“Ask me when you get back.” Squaring her shoulders, she headed toward the stairs. The train pulled away behind her, and her thoughts turned to the mission at hand. Maybe, if things went well, she’d have more than one avenue of opportunity for Reeva.


End file.
